The Distant Clue
The stone was not merely a building material; it was a living thing, breathing in the damp chill of the valley, holding within its cold veins the memory of every hand that had ever cut it from the cliff face. For Elias, who had carried the weight of his exile in his bones since the day he left the lowlands, the wall was a mirror. It did not judge. It simply stood. It endured. And in its...
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